


is your mouth a little weak?

by Singofsolace



Series: CAOS Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Morning Sex, Romance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22704772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singofsolace/pseuds/Singofsolace
Summary: Zelda Spellman and Mambo Marie spend the morning in bed together.Valentine's Day Fluff, written in response to many requests I received on Tumblr to write a fic like this! <3
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mambo Marie
Series: CAOS Tumblr Prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545145
Comments: 22
Kudos: 123





	is your mouth a little weak?

**Author's Note:**

> We all need a little bit more love and light in our lives, don't we? I wrote this to avoid reality for a little while. Please let me know what you think! The title is a lyric from Frank Sinatra's "My Funny Valentine."
> 
> Content Warning: Towards the end of the fic there is a brief moment where Zelda thinks about her wedding eve and the Dark Lord's "visit."

Zelda awoke to soft kisses on her bare shoulders. At first, she didn’t open her eyes. She just allowed herself to enjoy the feeling. She couldn’t remember the last time her shoulders didn’t ache from the delicious crack of a flog against them. She had expected to miss the pain, but as lips traced a line from one shoulder to the next, she smiled into her pillow and sighed contentedly.

“You are awake, _ma ch_ _érie_?”

Zelda hummed, not yet wanting to move or open her eyes.

“It is late. _Les enfants_ will be wondering where you are,” Marie said as she moved on from kissing to kneading her shoulders in an effort to rouse her.

“Let them wonder,” groaned Zelda as Marie worked on a knot right beneath her shoulder blade. For a while it had been difficult allowing Marie to see the scars on her back, but now, she couldn’t imagine a time when she didn’t trust Marie with not just her body, but her life.

“What shall I tell them? The Directrix cannot bring herself out of bed today?” said Marie teasingly, tracing a fingertip down the length of Zelda’s spine until she reached her lower back, where the rest of Zelda’s body was hidden beneath the blankets.

Finally, Zelda opened one eye. “Would that be such a terrible thing? Spending the day in bed?”

“I would like nothing better than to ravish you from dawn until dusk, _ch_ _érie_ ,” Marie said as she placed a kiss on a particularly nasty scar on Zelda’s left shoulder. “After all, it is _le quatorze f_ _évrier_ , _n’est-ce pas_!?”

The peculiar announcement of the date, as if the fourteenth of February ought to hold some significance for her, was enough to make Zelda turn her body over so that she was facing Marie. It would be helpful to see her lips, rather than feel them on her skin, if they were going to carry on a conversation that was partially in French. As she turned, she spread her arms languorously above her head, like a cat stretching its limbs in a square of sunlight. She couldn’t help feeling a surge of satisfaction at the way Marie’s eyes followed her every movement with blatant lust.

“Is it a Catholic holiday? I’m afraid the date holds no significance for me,” said Zelda, cradling Marie’s cheek in her hand as she did. Though she had originally been wary of Marie’s traditions, now she wanted to know everything there was to know about this woman’s world.

Fleetingly, Zelda wondered if this was how Edward felt when he met Diana, but the sheer implications and consequences of such a thought so thoroughly overwhelmed her that she let her hand fall from Marie’s cheek, as if it had been burned by the soft skin beneath her palm. As soon as the hand hit the bed between them, however, Marie took it in both of her own.

“It _is_ a feast day for Saint Valentine, but that is not all—”

“Oh, I see,” said Zelda. “Today is Valentine’s Day. I always forget that the mortals have their own rituals, akin to Lupercalia.”

“What is Lupercalia?” asked Marie with keen interest as she rolled Zelda beneath her. This was Zelda’s favorite way to start the morning—with Marie’s toned thighs on either side of her hips. “And can it be celebrated in this way?”

“It is a—” Zelda sucked in a sharp breath as Marie sunk her teeth into her neck, “fertility festival.”

“Vraimant?”

French words had a special way of vibrating against Zelda’s skin. Zelda nearly squirmed as Marie found the sensitive spot behind her ear and tickled it with her nose.

“What happened to ‘the children will worry,’ Marie?” asked Zelda as she draped her legs around Marie’s waist.

Instead of answering, Marie kissed her soundly on the mouth. Zelda sighed into the kiss, not remembering the last time she felt so…safe.

“A very wise woman suggested the day be spent in bed,” said Marie as the kiss ended. She reached up to brush a curl of golden red hair out of Zelda’s eyes with more tenderness than Zelda had ever known or desired in a lover before. She was so used to pain mixed with pleasure that these small acts of gentle care never failed to surprise her. “…And who am I to deny her?”

Marie had a very talented mouth, which kissed a long line from the point between her breasts down to her pubic bone. Zelda was growing impatient, having dropped her thighs down off of Marie’s hips in exasperation somewhere around the second or third kiss that was nowhere near where she desired Marie the most.

“Is something wrong, _chérie?_ ” Marie smirked as she slipped a hand beneath each of Zelda’s knees and lifted them sharply up onto her shoulders.

Zelda’s breath was stolen from her lungs by the unexpected change in pace, but she still managed to get out: “Not at all.”

Zelda had never known a woman more talented with her tongue. It was really quite remarkable. She was tempted to ask Marie where she had learned to do that, and _that_ , and—oh—t h a t, but she hardly felt it was the proper time to distract the woman from her mission.

The orgasm came, at long last, in a series of fireworks beneath Zelda’s eyelids. She had closed her eyes at some point—exactly when, she could not say—but it made Marie chuckle between her legs as she swiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

“Have I put you to sleep, _mon coeur_?”

Zelda reached out a hand to pull Marie back up so that they were once more lying side by side. “No. I am very much awake.”

With that, Zelda launched forward, placing a hand behind Marie’s neck and pulling her in for a long, passionate kiss with teeth and tongue. Tasting herself in a lover’s mouth was never something Zelda particularly enjoyed with previous partners, but with Marie, she hardly even noticed. Marie’s mouth felt so much like home, she never wanted the kiss to end.

“Zelda, stop, stop. I must breathe, _ch_ _érie_!” said Marie, breaking away from the kiss by pushing Zelda gently but firmly away with her hands braced against both shoulders.

Zelda felt something twist inside her at the idea that she might have caused Marie discomfort with her passion. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—you should’ve stopped me earlier if you—”

Marie’s sudden laughter did not calm Zelda’s racing thoughts.

“Zelda, it was wonderful. I would love nothing better than to die kissing you. It would be the heaven before Heaven.”

Marie was looking at her with warm, teasing eyes, but Zelda couldn’t quite grasp the humor of the situation. “Can Catholics _die_ from such things?!”

Zelda seemed to be about to leave the bed in her panic, so Marie increased the strength of her hold. “ _Calmez-vous_ , Zelda. I am fine. More than fine. _Parfait_.”

Zelda’s heart was still in her throat, despite knowing how much she was overreacting. She hated feeling like this—like she wasn’t in control of herself and her emotions.

“What is it, _ch_ _érie_? I can tell something is bothering you,” Marie said has she placed a finger beneath Zelda’s chin and lifted it.

Zelda struggled to find the right words for a long time. “I… I just don’t want to hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself if I so much as—”

“Put that thought out of your mind. You could never hurt me. I would never _let_ you hurt me. I am not that kind of lover, _mon trésor._ ”

“I know,” said Zelda as she sat up, brushing Marie’s hands away. “I’ve never had a lover quite like you before. I’m used to… I’m used to hurting and being hurt. I don’t know how to be… like you.”

“I’m not asking you to be,” Marie said, also sitting up. She seemed to sense that whatever hope they had previously had of spending the day in bed together was over. “You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not, Zelda. I will not break if you show me how you were taught to love and be loved.”

_Taught to love?_ Zelda thought, unsure what Marie meant by that. No one had ever _taught_ her anything about love—in fact, witches weren’t supposed to be capable of love, no matter what romantic ideals Edward and Hilda had gotten into their heads. Their father had been very clear: love was for mortals. Only fools fell in love. Love made you weak—what’s more, a witch was meant to pledge her body and soul to the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord alone. He was the only one worthy of such…devotion.

But as her thoughts strayed to the Dark Lord, she felt her body going cold with dread. When he had visited on her wedding eve, she had thought all of her childhood dreams had finally come true. But the idea of his body rutting on top of hers—claiming her, as Faustus had during their honeymoon—it was too much to bear.

Zelda jumped as another, softer hand fell on her shoulder. Marie had gotten out of bed and fetched Zelda’s robe for her. “I am sorry to have startled you. I think it might be best if we show our faces during what remains of the breakfast hour, _n’est-ce pas_?”

“Of course,” said Zelda, nodding as she allowed Marie to wrap the robe loosely around her shoulders.

Marie kissed her forehead. Zelda cherished the feeling as the images of Lucifer and Faustus were chased away by Marie’s presence.

“Oh, and Marie? Before we go down to breakfast, I just wanted to say…” Zelda stood from the bed, reaching out to pull Marie close, so that their foreheads were touching. “ _Joyeuse Saint-Valentin.”_


End file.
